What I learnt about Growing Down, when done backwards in Time.

People only grow in one direction, or two.

Your parent’s dull routine becomes your childhood mythology -

The cuckoos in the forest out the window of the cottage

Where you visited your grandma for a week,

And your grandpas box of maggots, which you could never believe,

Are resonant things. And so memories are left to rot,

Like poems, perhaps the ones you know you will not finish.